there is a small moment 
© by Kathleen Dunbar 

there is a small moment 
when the still air 
touches the bird’s breast 
and nothing else exists for her 
more important 
than being alive 
to the invisible warmth 
that is the breath 
of gardens 
long trees 
and sunwarmed stone 

all that is alive has 
risen to meet her 
in the crystal 
animal of the air 
that waits 
next to her 
on her high branch 

she—who is made 
to sing— 
allows the wind 
when it begins to stir 
to touch her soft body 
where her 
invisible voice lives 
and she begins 
to feel called 
exquisitely 
to return the vitalness 
and press 
of garden 
and tree 
and stone 
in the poured 
silver of her song 

there is nothing 
compared to 
her joy when the wind 
moves into her
and her exquisite 
allowing 
of the taking 
of her singing body 

this is the reason 
she was given a voice 

so 
of course 
she tips 
and falls 
and flies